


Crutch

by Unhinged



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: College, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6856678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unhinged/pseuds/Unhinged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When taking care of his injured friend, Rhett experiences tentative new emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crutch

Rhett had been expecting the call all day, but still he was surprised when it came late on Friday afternoon. He was doing his homework in the strangely quiet apartment he shared with Link and Greg. The other boys were elsewhere: Greg out partying and Link home with his mother, recuperating from his recent snowboarding injury. Rhett still got cold shivers travelling up his arms whenever he thought about the accident and how dangerous it had been. He could vividly remember the fear he had experienced at not knowing whether Link would ever remember the month he appeared to have lost, or if his short-term memory would start absorbing new things again. They had been extremely lucky that the violent crash without a helmet hadn’t led to permanent consequences.

The ringing of their phone snapped Rhett out of his pensive thoughts and he jogged to the small table near the front door to grab the handle. As he had expected ever since he heard that Link’s mother would be gone for the weekend, it was his friend, asking for help. Link had been vehement about being perfectly capable of managing a couple of days on his own, but Rhett knew better. Even with the crutches, Link was barely ambulatory and constantly in more pain than he admitted to. After the accident, he’d been determined to attend classes as normal, but his first attempt at sitting upright on a chair for more than five minutes had resulted in tears and a hasty retreat to recline on their ratty old sofa.

Link endured one full week of spending the days alone in their apartment, too drowsy to focus on reading and too sore to care for himself properly, before his mother commanded him to come home. Rhett knew it made him a coward, but he was pleased that his friend was out of his sight. Seeing Link suffer made blades of pain shoot through Rhett’s gut, and an overwhelming sense of guilt distracted him from whatever he was trying to accomplish. He still called his friend every day and collected various homework assignments for him, but the physical distance helped him handle the situation without crumbling.

“So uhh, you think you could, ahh, if it’s okay, like, maybe, you know, come over?” Link asked and Rhett could easily picture his cheeks turning red from embarrassment. Link wasn’t usually one to shy away from asking help when he needed it. Perhaps he had sensed some unwillingness or caution in Rhett that made him hesitate now. The older boy gripped the plastic phone tighter and pressed his narrow lips together. His conscious mind tried to tell him the fault wasn’t his, but his heart kept thudding mercilessly in his chest.

“I’ll be there in an hour,” Rhett promised.

“Thanks man, I really appreciate it,” Link said. His nervousness was palpable.

“No problem. And you know, you’re just following my orders anyway.”

“How so?” Link asked, his awkwardness forgotten in the confusion.

“I told you to call me if you need anything, it wasn’t a suggestion.”

Rhett enjoyed the snort of laughter he elicited from his friend. He told Link to relax and wait for him, and went to gather his books. The weekend would most likely consist of him watching Link snore, so he might as well get some required reading done for once. He wrote a brief note to Greg, slapped it on the fridge door, and went to get his car.

The drive to Buies Creek was uneventful. Rhett made one quick stop to grab some supplies, not having remembered to ask Link how well their fridge was stocked. Knowing his mother, there would be plenty to last them the weekend, but Rhett was also aware of his own appetite. And he had an itch to buy the new chocolate bar he had seen advertised on his way out of town. As a result of his detour, it took him a little bit over an hour to reach Link’s mother’s house. He left his car in the yard and walked to the door to knock on its wooden surface. When there was no answer after what Rhett considered an obscene amount of time, he tried the handle. The door swung open easily and he stepped in.

“Link?” Rhett called as he headed towards the kitchen to toss his loot in the fridge.

“Living room,” his friend replied, sounding strained.

Rhett left his bag on the nearest counter and took a few hasty steps to reach the indicated room. Not having seen Link in a week, Rhett was caught off-guard when he took in how pale and worn his friend looked.

“You okay?” The words were out of his mouth before he realised how pointless they were. “I mean, what can I do to help?”

“I dropped my pills, went under the couch,” Link said. He seemed close to tears and Rhett understood how bad the pain must be.

“How long ago?”

“Three hours,” Link admitted.

Rhett wanted to reprimand his friend for waiting so long before calling him, but decided to focus on remedying the situation first. He got down on all fours in front of the sofa and peeked under it. The pill bottle had rolled deep under the sturdy piece of furniture. Link would’ve had to move the sofa in order to reach the container, not something he could accomplish in his current condition.

“I got it,” Rhett said and stepped to the head of the couch. He grabbed the edge and lifted the entire thing with Link still lying on it. His friend yelped from surprise or pain as Rhett put the piece of furniture down. He swooped low to grab the pill bottle and dumped it on the nearby table before moving the couch back to where it had been.

“How many can you have?” Rhett asked while studying the bottle.

“Two,” Link said. Rhett confirmed the dose from the label and shook out two pills into his friend’s trembling hand. There was a glass of water on the table and Rhett handed it over as well. Link tossed the painkillers in his mouth and drank a few sips before leaning back and closing his eyes. Rhett took that as his cue to return to the kitchen and finish unpacking the groceries.

As Rhett was sorting his bags of crisps by flavours on the kitchen table, he realised how hungry he was. Seconds later a large frozen pizza was sitting in the oven, waiting for the heat to start warming it up. Rhett wondered if Link had eaten anything that day. Probably not. The McLaughlin philosophy for getting over illnesses and injuries was to fill the body with fuel, while Link seemed to lose all appetite when he was uncomfortable.

“Link?” Rhett said as he shook his friend carefully. “Sorry to wake you buddy, but dinner’s almost ready.”

Link blinked sleepily and lifted his gaze to Rhett. His pain was apparent in the squinted, glassy quality of his eyes. Rhett found himself fighting a sudden urge to gather his friend in his arms, to hold him until the hurt went away. Link appeared so fragile, so defenceless, so small. Rhett had witnessed his friend nursing several injuries before, of varying severity, but never before had he been overcome by such potent protective instincts. His hands almost burned with the desire to touch and physically assure himself that Link was still alive.

Shaking his head to banish the strange ideas, Rhett stood up swiftly and retreated back into the kitchen. Once safely in front of the oven, he hunkered down and opened the glass door. The enticing scent of pepperoni pizza conquered all errant thoughts and Rhett reached into a cupboard to find a plate for it, his mind focused solely on the task at hand.

“Hungry?” Rhett asked as he entered the living room with their steaming dinner, carrying the large plate as if it were a trophy.

“Not really,” Link replied. Rhett frowned at him.

“I found a new brand of pepperoni pizza,” he said with not an insignificant amount of pride in his voice. “Was more expensive than our usual one too.”

Link didn’t share his friend’s excitement. Unfazed, Rhett sliced the pizza into quarters, reconsidered, and halved one of the slices. He held it out to Link and smiled.

“Try some.”

Link took the offered slice and carefully put the tip in his mouth. Rhett couldn’t explain the sense of relief the simple action brought him. He forcefully focused on his own food and devoured the meal in hasty gulps while Link nibbled his more modest portion.

“Did you buy the window cleaner for the flat?” Link asked. His half-eaten pizza slice was sitting abandoned in his hand.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Rhett replied.

“So did you?”

“I forgot,” Rhett admitted. He waited for Link to blow up in his face. The younger boy had been nagging about their dirty windows for several days, ever since he’d been stuck in the apartment. But instead of the expected temper explosion, Link just looked sad. Rhett didn’t consider himself the most observant person when it came to emotions, but he had a feeling his friend was upset about something other than a bottle of Windex.

“What’s wrong?” Rhett asked, surprising himself with the directness.

“Nothing,” Link mumbled and stuffed pizza in his mouth, seemingly to avoid further conversation rather than out of any desire to eat it. Rhett decided to let the matter go. Link had enough to deal with already, he didn’t need his best friend pushing him to open up when he wasn’t ready for it.

“You know you can talk to me about everything, right?” Rhett said. Link looked at him with genuine surprise. There was vulnerability in his bafflement that tore at Rhett. He wanted to consider them capable of sharing everything with each other, but he knew from recent confessions that Link tended to play his cards close to his chest, especially concerning matters that required unconditional trust. From his terror in public pools to his misery in summer camp, Rhett had learned about the aspects of Link’s experiences that he had failed to see when they occurred. His own blindness to his friend’s discomfort bothered him, but Link’s unwillingness to share his thoughts with Rhett terrified him. Sometimes he was scared of the depths of darkness his friend held hidden within.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Rhett added when Link seemed frozen in wake of his words. “But if you want to or need to, I’m here for you.”

“Uhh, thanks,” was all Link managed in reply. His movements appeared sluggish and uncoordinated when he reached towards the table to dump his half-eaten pizza slice back on the plate.

“Get some sleep,” Rhett suggested. Link presented no objections. He closed his eyes and his breathing deepened within minutes.

Rhett grabbed the plate and returned to the kitchen to clean up. Link was a champion when it came to naps, so he judged he had at least an hour or two to himself. Studying would be the sensible, responsible choice, but Rhett felt no interest in his books at the moment. Instead, he conquered the large armchair next to the sofa and opened the TV. Rhett knew it would take more than a spirited game show to wake his slumbering friend, but still he hit the mute button just in case.

The show lost most of its appeal when Rhett couldn’t hear the contestants’ answers. He kept it on anyway, mainly for the sake of company. With each commercial break, Rhett found his eyes drifting towards Link. The younger boy was laid flat on his back, hardly moving at all. This was unusual for Link, who typically slept with reckless abandon, flailing his limbs and changing position once every five minutes, occasionally mumbling or talking. Rhett reckoned he was either fully knocked out by the drugs or in too much pain to adjust, even in sleep. The thought sparked a strong twist of emotion in Rhett. He’d emphasised how funny he found the accident to Link, for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. But levity had been furthest from his mind during the terrifying hours when his friend couldn’t absorb anything new or make sense of what was going on around him. The need to protect the person who meant so much to him had driven Rhett to mocking him ruthlessly and convincing everyone around him that he found the situation absolutely hilarious.

“I’m sorry,” Rhett whispered, surprising himself. He and Link hadn’t talked much about the events beyond the facts, or about their individual reactions to what had transpired. Rhett had never confessed how deep the fear had run, or how lonely he’d felt when his best friend was frozen in time. To have no future, to know no new memories would be worse to Rhett than losing his past. Always gazing to what lay ahead, his mind would not hold together in eternal present. And the way out of that terror? Humour, as always was his path to safety.

“Rhett,” Link said with a demanding tone. Rhett wasn’t sure whether he was awake or not, but he leaned closer anyway and asked what was wrong. His voice must’ve woken his friend, for Link blinked sleepily and seemed surprised to find his friend’s face next to his.

“Was I talking?” Link asked, knowing only through what others had told him about what his body got up to while he was asleep.

“Just indecipherable mumblings,” Rhett replied. He didn’t know why he wanted to keep Link calling his name to himself, as if admitting it publicly would decrease its value, but he remained tight-lipped. “How’s the pain?”

Link shrugged in reply. “Manageable.”

Rhett had opinions about Link’s response but he kept them to himself. Seeing his friend so meek and subdued wakened the rumblings of fear in him again. It was like the accident had temporarily doused the spark of life in him – or altered something permanently. Rhett understood that his friend was injured and needed time to heal, but witnessing this uncharacteristically quiet behaviour reinforced his concern that the impact had affected his brain more than was yet apparent.

“I saw some pudding cups in the fridge, want one?”

“Sure,” Link replied automatically. Rhett jumped up and rushed to the kitchen before his friend had time to decide whether he actually desired the treat or not. Moments later, Rhett was back in the armchair with two pudding cups and two small spoons in hand.

“Need help sitting up?” Rhett asked, oddly embarrassed by the offer. Assisting his friend when he needed it was second nature to Rhett, but verbally acknowledging it made him uneasy. He didn’t want to picture his friend as a fragile creature who would break from a careless touch, but after what he’d witnessed on the slopes and later in the hospital, he was faced with a new caution he couldn’t ignore.

Link shook his head in response, muttering that he wasn’t completely helpless. He took his time hoisting himself more upright, grunting with the effort. Rhett was left sitting with the spoons in his hands, watching awkwardly as his best friend made sounds that were not far removed from indecent. When Link had reached as high an incline as he seemed capable of reaching, Rhett stuck one spoon in his mouth and jammed a couple of pillows behind his back. Link gave him a breathless thank you. The young men focused on their puddings and fell silent.

Rhett devoured his cup in a few spoonfuls. Link was slower to shovel his in, savouring each mouthful and appearing to give the mushy substance a few good bites. Rhett’s gaze was drawn to his friend again, who was too engrossed in his treat to notice the eyes trained on him.

“When’s your mom coming back?” Rhett asked. Link took his time to swallow before answering.

“Sunday morning.”

“Can’t believe she’d leave you alone for that long,” Rhett said before he could stop himself.

“I can take care of myself, I’m a grown adult,” Link said while licking his spoon. Rhett decided to not dispute his friend’s claim. “Besides, it’s a work thing she couldn’t get out of.”

“I’ll go make the guest bed,” Rhett declared. He picked up the empty pudding cups and tried not to laugh at Link’s confused look. “I’m staying until Sunday, obviously.”

“Uh, yeah, obviously,” Link repeated. His uncertainty was only eclipsed by the raw gratitude reddening his cheeks and brightening his eyes. Rhett nodded minutely before hiding his face from his friend’s view. Link had no business seeing how touched Rhett was by his reaction, fully exposed on his countenance as Link’s emotions usually were. He escaped to the kitchen and proceeded to the linen closet after the briefest washing up pause. With familiarity that came from years of sleepovers, Rhett pulled out the guest bed and set it up in Link’s room. When he returned to the living room, Link was flat on his back again, looking less peaky than he had earlier.

“Movie?” Rhett suggested. Link agreed, and they spent the next fifteen minutes trying to decide which video to watch. An old action favourite won after some verbal wrestling. Typically their disagreements ended in physical wrestling or Rhett simply overpowering his smaller friend, but the latter’s injury prevented any concrete solutions to differences in views. Half an hour passed in silence as the boys got immersed in the film, but soon Rhett noticed Link getting restless.

“Ants in your pants?” Rhett asked when he grew tired of his friend constantly shifting position.

“Gotta pee,” Link said. Rhett raised a solitary eyebrow.

“Hurts to get up,” Link finally admitted after challenging the silent question for a moment.

Rhett looked around the room for his friend’s crutches. They were on the floor between the sofa and the low table in front of it. Rhett fished them out and set them to lean against the armchair he had vacated. He offered his hand to Link, but the smaller boy hesitated.

“Don’t be a stubborn ass,” Rhett said, not unkindly. “We’ll go slow.”

Link took the offered appendage. He grunted in pain as he swung his legs on the floor, and needed a moment to just breathe as his hip got used to the change in position. When he nodded, Rhett prepared for his friend’s weight and allowed Link to use him as a winch to haul his body off the low surface. Leaning on Rhett’s arm and panting slightly, Link barely remained upright as Rhett reached for the crutches and handed them over. With hesitant steps, Link limped to the bathroom, leaving Rhett standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

Witnessing his friend’s pain roused impotent anger in Rhett. Link was suffering and there was no way for him to fix it. Throughout their lives, Rhett had taken on the role of the protector, often not consciously. For him, it was natural to care for and to defend those who he had chosen to walk through life with. Link sometimes harboured dangerous recklessness and curiosity, coupled with clumsiness and a tendency to do anything if it earned him attention. Rhett could be a bit of a showboat himself, but he had drawn many lines he would never cross. To Link, such limitations were but faded tiles on the floor he would happily dance over and not give a single thought to consequences. The snowboarding accident was just the tip of the iceberg of the unenlightened decisions he had made. Their collective common sense usually exceeded any danger they faced, but this time Rhett felt like he had failed on a frightening scale.

When Link returned from the bathroom, he was pale and visibly trembling. Rhett hurried to grab his arm to steady him, but was surprised when Link leaned his entire body against him. Had Rhett not taken a firm hold of his friend with both hands, Link would’ve hit the floor.

“Woah there! You alright?” Rhett asked, more than a little worried. He felt Link’s rapidly moving ribs through his t-shirt, squeezing them with strength that must’ve been uncomfortable, but was necessary.

“Got dizzy,” Link muttered. He nuzzled his face against Rhett’s chest and lifted his hands to cling to the soft material of the taller boy’s hoodie. The sound of his crutches clattering to the floor made both jump.

Rhett considered picking Link up and carrying him to the sofa, but he feared he would accidentally hurt his friend by doing so. The decision was taken from him when Link made a feeble sound of alarm and started sinking. Rhett managed to kneel under him just in time to position Link’s upper body on his shoulder in a clumsy fireman’s carry. With more caution than speed, he headed towards the back of the house where Link’s room was.

“Putting you down now,” Rhett warned as he slowly lowered Link on his bed. The smaller boy inhaled sharply when his feet came to contact with the yielding surface, but Rhett didn’t stop. By the time Link was situated properly, they were both shaky.

“Let’s not do that again,” Link joked once his breathing slowed back to regular rhythm. Rhett was quick to agree, even though he knew Link would have to get up and lie down numerous times before his bones would mend enough to endure the motions without pain. The stab of guilt in his gut was a physical sensation.

“Just ask if you want something, no need to get up while I’m here.”

“Th-thanks,” Link stuttered, cheeks gaining a touch of colour. He closed his eyes and relaxed against the pillow. A strand of hair was disturbed by the minute motion and slid across his forehead.

Rhett’s hand moved before he consciously decided to do so. His fingers brushed the dark hair to the side and tucked it behind Link’s round ear. The heat of his skin radiated to the hair, making it warm under Rhett’s trembling fingers. In amazement, he pulled his hand away before his touch lingered any longer than it already had. Searching for a reaction, ready to laugh his actions off if necessary, Rhett looked at Link’s flushed face. The earlier exertion had apparently drained him, since there was only a faint smile playing on his lips, no outraged response to the intrusive intimacy.

Unconsciously, Rhett brought his fingers to his lips. The scent that hit him was Link’s, one he was extensively familiar with, but never before had he felt such fondness for it. His best friend was alive, and although he wasn’t well, he was on the mend. It should’ve been enough. And still, Rhett found himself yearning for something more that he couldn’t verbalise. The longing escaped definition by words, but he tasted the bubbly sweetness of Clearly Canadian, he felt the warm kiss of sunshine on his skin, he smelled the unique mixture of everything that was Link, and all those sensations together told him he was home and he was happy. He could live without the first two, but losing the latter would be… catastrophic.

Link shifted on the bed and moaned. Rhett was amused by how fast he had managed to fall asleep again, but his mood was immediately darkened when he realised that the excessive sleepiness was another reminder of how close he had come to continuing on the path of life alone. The notion gave Rhett pause.

“Are we that close?” he asked quietly, knowing his friend wouldn’t wake to the soft words, but not daring to express his thoughts with any more volume. Link gave him nothing in reply.

And yet he gave him everything.

“I swear I’ll keep you safe,” Rhett whispered. His words were too fragile to bear the strength of his voice, but he sent the oath into the room to be absorbed by his friend’s sleeping form anyway. His promise encompassed everything he couldn’t say, even to himself. He had no way of qualifying the stirrings of emotion in him when he thought about his friend, but that was okay. Where Rhett failed, he knew Link would step in and complete him. If Rhett was lonely, he knew Link would be there waiting for him, always eager for his company. And when Rhett needed to give his affection to someone, Link would always be ready to receive it and return it tenfold.

They were friends, and that was enough.


End file.
